Loose
by Rainami
Summary: Luke/Chase, the story of how the young cook fell in love with the carpenter. Smut to come!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: So I recently got back into Tree of Tranquility and unapologetically began shipping Chase and Luke. I started writing this story as a kind of writing practice and it admittedly got out of hand a bit (in a good way!) so now I can't stop writing, guh. Damn boys.**

**Anyway, this is yaoi fanfiction, slash, completely harmless in the first chapter but I intend to write some beautiful smut later on. (Smut? Lemon? What do you crazy kids call it these days? Porn?)**

**I hope you enjoy, and feel free to ask questions, rate, review, the works.**

**Also, new installments will be posted quite often, so check back or track the story.**

**Now, READ. (And enjoy.)**

**XXXXXXX  
**

The first time I met Luke I was new to the island. Freshly moved in, completely overwhelmed but more than ready to take on my new life. Dale, his boss and father (never quite figured out how that was supposed to work), was told to check out my house and give me a nice long list of reasons why I couldn't expand my property and build a kitchen, but he was nice (or simply busy) enough to send over his less intimidating son, Luke.

Now... how do I explain Luke? Appearance is easy – he basically looks like a human Sonic. You know Sonic, the video game character? Zig-zag blue hair and stunning eyes the shades of honey and gold and tea and amber. His personality is a bit more complicated. He has the energy and cunning of a weasel, so he can be the most annoying but also the funniest person to be around. He loved helping, accepting, working, constantly staying on his feet and doing everything at once.

There are moments when he rapidly tones down and becomes this quiet, mysterious man with serious questions and quite the brain, but staying like that seems to cause him physical pain because he always winds up back on his feet and bouncing around. Most of the villagers assume he's dumb, simply because his vocabulary consists mainly of the adjectives "awesome" and "cool", but on those rare moments when he calms down, he can use words of high eloquence and deep meanings. Those are the moments when I know he's far more than the villagers gave him credit for.

So none of that was actually obvious the first time we met – just so we're clear. I pretty much assumed what everyone else had already told me: Luke, the moronic carpenter-hottie who was good for nothing else than swinging an axe. It's a good thing I'm not the kind to get stuck on first impressions, because _boy_ was I wrong. (Not about the hottie part though – seriously, the guy could be an olympic swimmer or something.)

"Hey, I'm Luke!" was the first thing he said to me. A flame-bandana was strapped to his forehead, keeping the unruly tide of blue from his magnificent golden eyes. Did I mention he was pretty?

"Chase," I answered, shaking his hand. "I'm new-"

"Yeah, I know." He grinned and I immediately thought _Douchebag, _but as his smile persisted I realized he was legitimately joking, not in a sarcastic know-it-all kind of way, but in a friendly way.

"You're Dale's son?"

"Yup. Awesome, huh? Star-apprentice, so you have nothing to worry about." He puffed up his chest and tried to keep a straight face, but then his eyes widened and glossed over and his shoulders slumped as he threw his head back and sniffed deeply. "That smells... so good!" His head snapped back up. "What's that smell?"

"Oh... uh... I cook." I gestured at the apron strapped to my chest. "I mean, I'm _a_ cook. It's tough because my kitchen is tiny, but I hope to get a job at the inn soon." I stopped, wondering if my remark about the kitchen's size could have offended Luke; he must have helped building it after all. But he just nodded happily and flashed me a thumbs-up.

"Well, maybe I'll stay for a bit longer and you can pay me in a meal?"

I accepted. And that's how I had my first semi-date with Luke the moronic carpenter.

**XXXXXXX**

So I'll try and keep this part short.

We ended up chatting and exchanging life stories. He was Luke, the star-apprentice who had lived on the island for as long as he can remember with his father and... Bo. If Luke was the apprentice equivalent of a star, Bo was probably space dust. Or something. Poor guy.

Anyway, I told him about my uninspiring life. Growing up in the city but always wanting to get out and make a living in some quiet, serene place with nice people that don't shout at you and steal your cabs. My dream was to open my own restaurant based on healthy, organic food and self-made recipes. No big-business nonsense or corporate agencies. Just yummy, healthy food.

I told him it was stupid. He disagreed.

"I love your dream! It sounds amazing." He scraped out the soup bowl, licking the stuff off his fingers. "Your food is so much better than what Dad makes."

"I'm glad," I told him, genuinely flattered. "You sure can eat, too."

"Well, I have to. Keeps the muscles poppin'." He flexed his biceps and I smiled at his unabashed nature. Anyone else doing the same thing would have been showing off, but when Luke did it it seemed... natural.

"Having three sisters and all, I'm used to cooking for girls," I explained. "They care too much about portions and calories, to the point where the cooking isn't fun anymore. I mean, it's about food right? Eating is supposed to be fun."

Luke nodded enthusiastically. "I agree. I mean I want to be with someone who isn't afraid to dig in, as long as the food is appreciated."

I smiled, trying to imagine Luke with a girl. For some reason it seemed like nobody on the island was a right fit for him – every girl I'd met was either batshit crazy or too timid to even try a whole cake.

"Anyway, I gotta run," Luke said, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. "Stuff was delicious! See ya."

Something twisted inside me. The way he grinned and did this dorky handwave, then adjusted his bandanna and sprinted out the door like a pack of wild dogs was on his heel... I'd never met anyone like him.

**XXXXXXX**

I'll just skip ahead a bit: We became friends.

Very good friends actually, the best of friends. He'd come around the house every day just to say hi or hug me (hugs were kind of a thing for him, but more on that later.) We also started a small project in which he helped me collect lumber for a small vegetable garden and greenhouse. I paid him in meals.

Dale was a great guy and always happy to see me (I think he was just grateful that I watched and fed his son) even though Bo was admittedly not my biggest fan. He wouldn't spit or say anything mean, except for that one comment about my "gay eyelashes", but it was just the way he behaved around me that lead me to believe he was negatively inclined towards my friendship with Luke.

About that "gay eyelashes" comment: I have remarkably long, bushy eyelashes and I think it's one of the things people notice first about me, so one day after Luke spliced an especially sturdy log and received heavy praise from Dale, I made some banana split ice cream to celebrate and he just kind of snapped and called my eyelashes gay.

As to how eyelashes can be gay, I don't know. Nobody ever mentioned this argument again and I decided it was for the best. I don't particularly enjoy discussing my flaws.

Anyway, during that time I made a small sum from working at the Inn, though it was more of a backstage-kitchen job in which I scrubbed floors, cleaned sinks, and did little cooking in general, but it payed the rent and whatever extra I had would go into the vegetable garden.

I don't think I had anything other than friendly feelings for Luke back then. I mean, occasionally I would look at him and stop breathing because the guy was drop-dead gorgeous, or I would spend hours trying to come up with the perfect dish to satisfy his demands, but it never even crossed my mind that there was anything more than an innocent buddy-bond between us.

Until that one night, right between summer and fall, when the wind blew colder and the first leaves began to turn. I had a day off and Luke had sprained his ankle, which meant he was finally forced to sit still and rest for a little. We were hanging around the river, throwing rocks while we waited for one of the fishing poles stuck in the ground to shake and quiver with the first catch of the day.

"Damn, fishing's harder these days," Luke grumbled while he flicked his pole. He didn't like being "useless", and he definitely wasn't patient enough for fishing.

"Every time you flick your pole the vibrations travel right down to the lure, so you might as well-"

"I stopped listening after 'vibration'," Luke interrupted with a grin.

I punched his shoulder.

We stayed quiet for a bit, until I finally told him something that had been nagging at me ever since I met him.

"Luke, aren't you tired?"

"What?"

"You're constantly working and running around – and I _know _that's normal for you, but it still doesn't change the fact that you have surprisingly little free time."

Luke looked out over the river, suddenly thoughtful. "Well, the shop is always busy..."

"Please," I said sarcastically. "All you do is chop at trees and work on furniture, with the occasional house-job."

Luke twitched ever so slightly, but I ignored him. "When was the last time you went down to Waffle Town for something other than an errand?"

His guilty silence said everything.

"It's supposed to be raining all week, and I imagine wood is kind of hard to chop when it's wet," I went on, "and far less fun." Again with the twitching, but I convinced myself it was nothing.

"What are you suggesting?" he asked with mild curiosity.

"When your ankle is better, how about the two of us run down to the beach and play around in the pouring rain a little. You need to do something fun and innocent, something childish."

Luke lit up. "I know how to do _that_!"

I laughed and he joined in and even though we didn't catch any fish that day it still seemed like a major success.

**XXXXXXX**

Playing in the rain turned out to be far more exhausting and cold than I had oh-so-boldly assumed, but it was still one of the funnest days I ever had.

We splashed through puddles, pushed each other, pretended to flop on the ground like fish (we both have a fairly odd sense of humor, I'll admit) and laughed like crazy until our throats turned sore. One time Luke pretended to fall down and twist his still-healing ankle, making me almost pass out with worry, but then he got up, shoved me, and yelled, "GOT 'CHA!" which in turn earned him a well-aimed diving trip into the ocean.

On our way home, we ran into Dale who simply shook his head at us. I took Luke home with me, promising him some warm clothes and meals. We went inside, stripped down, and turned up the heater while I worked away at some warm mushroom noodle soup.

"Smells good!" Luke said, pulling out a chair and waiting impatiently. "When is it ready?"

"When I serve it, as always," I replied with practiced ease. When cooking for Luke, you're usually asked this question five times in the span of three minutes – it's almost like taking care of a particularly inquisitive toddler.

When I turned around to ask him how much he wanted, I almost dropped the ladle into the bowl. Luke was wearing one of my white tank tops, which clung beautifully to his marble chest. It was one of those rare times when he wasn't wearing his bandanna, so the silver-blue mane stuck out in every direction and covered his eyes.

"Can you even_ see_?" I snorted.

"Hardly. Is that soup in your hands?"

We sat down and ate, and it was in that particular moment, that very second in which he sat there, pushing his bangs out of his eyes, smiling up at me with those pure, innocent, rosy cheeks and a scratch on his nose from bumping into a tree on the way home – it was all of that in one moment that made me realize I was in way, _way_ too deep.

I was falling in love with Luke the carpenter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Oh god, I'm so sorry! Already late on the first update, geez. Real life's a bitch sometimes, so here's a short and fluffy one as a bit of a filler. Soon the smut will commence, but this one is still pretty tame (no need to avert your eyes yet). Enjoy!**

******XXXXXXX**

The rain worsened and the wind whipped it around until it splattered against the windows horizontally. I tried calling Dale, but the phone lines had gone dead. In the few seconds the TV worked we caught a glimpse of a storm warning, but then the picture flickered and the screen went black.

"Guess you're staying in tonight," I told Luke sheepishly, feeling a little ashamed that I had brought him into this, but I should have known Luke wouldn't see it like that.

"Awesome! An actual sleepover-party!" he yelled, fist-pumping the air.

I smiled. "Not mad?"

He shook his head and confirmed, "Not mad."

**XXXXXXX**

Ah, the innocence and naivity of the young cook and his carpenter-friend.

Amidst all the drama and exhaustion, I had completely forgotten that I only had one bed. And no, it wasn't one of those fancy hotel Queen-beds, it was actually quite small.

There was the couch, of course, but it was scratchy and too short for a grown man to lie on without his feet hanging off.

Part of my brainheartsoulwhatever was still denying the rush of warmth I felt every time I looked at Luke, so I decided that him and I sleeping in the same bed was nothing more than a friendly act, definitely nothing to be concerned about or push me over the edge into the ocean of looove, no no.

Like I said: Naive.

Anyhow, we ate some more snacks and then got ready for bed – or at least _I _did, Luke simply stayed in my tank top and a pair of boxers. He didn't even ask, or apologize for how painfully good-looking he was. He just slipped under the covers with his arms above the sheets so every popping vein on his biceps was clearly visible from where I was standing.

"Aren't you coming in?" he asked innocently, patting the space next to him.

"Uh... sure." I crawled over the bedspread and under the sheets, trying to scoot as far to the edge as possible so as to give Luke some space, but before I could do so much as adjust my pillow he slung his arms around my waist and pulled me in close, nuzzling his face into my chest.

"W-what are you doing?" I exclaimed, holding up my arms because I wasn't sure where to put them.

"It's warmer this way."

"We still have the heater on."

"I'm cold."

"_You're wearing my tank top."_

"Oh, would you just shut up and snuggle me?" He pushed his nose into the crook of my neck like some playful puppy, and I awkwardly patted his head.

He let out a snort at that, squinting up and giving me this mischievous look. "You can hug me, it's fine."

And so I did.

Two hours later he was snoring with his face buried in my shirt, little strands of blue poking me in the eye. I was still staring at him, unable to believe his face could look so peaceful and serious.

Needless to say, I didn't get a lot of sleep that night.


End file.
